Breakable
by Anna McKnight
Summary: Chapter one begins during and post 3x10. Chapter five contains spoilers for the finale. Sam Swarek isn't nearly as strong as he would like the world to believe. Rating change for language in later chapters.
1. Breakable

**A/N: **_I can't believe how many of you have read my first two short pieces in just twenty four hours! And what amazing feedback! Thank you so much!_

_Another short drabble. This one will be longer than the others. I was listening to a song today that I hadn't heard in years. "Breakable" by Fisher. While not completely relevant to Sam and Andy's story, some of the words made absolute sense for what they have been going through the last few episodes. Don't worry, this isn't a song ficlet. This is just me as if I were a voice inside Andy's head. At least for this first chapter. Like always, feedback makes me a happy happy woman. Enjoy. :-)_

You've always expected him to be the strong one. The one who could be counted on to keep his emotions in check; be the rational one. You've always thought that was just him. That he played everything close to the vest. But four months together have revealed a different side to him.

Inside the stoic, no nonsense cop there is a different man. One who when he isn't in uniform, comes very close to wearing his heart on his sleeve. He plays, he laughs, he jokes. He is more affectionate than what you ever thought he possibly could be. Public displays of affection? Bring it on. He holds your hand, kisses your cheek and lips. He is always touching you in some way. It seems like he has to.

So watching him now, standing apart from the rest of the group that is gathered around Jerry's grave, you expect him to be the strong one. Like always. But instead of the stoic façade you're used to, you see the mask is crumbling.

His eyes are glassy; barely holding back tears as they dart from side to side, not landing on one thing for very long. His jaw clenches and unclenches, just like his fists. He's barely holding it together. It's as if you walked over and touched him, he would shatter. Why are you so surprised to see this?

This man who you thought was invincible; strong enough to take on the world alone and win. This man who, when in his blues, shows no sign of weakness or uncertainty. This man whom you had always turned to for leadership and answers. This man who you always thought was so strong, is all too breakable.


	2. What is Expected of You

_Okay, this chapter is DARK. I honestly was making it up as I was writing. I didn't have a clue where I was going with it until it wrote itself to the end point. Looking back on it, I'm very moved by it. I can almost see Sam acting like this. Please tell me what you think!_

It's a testament to your iron will that you hold it together through the service. You were supposed to be best man at a wedding; not a pallbearer at a funeral. It was something you neither wanted nor expected to do anytime soon. The weight of the casket carrying your best friend will remain in your arms and in your soul long after the casket has disappeared beneath the earth.

At the cemetery, a light rain falls as the minister's monotone voice spins words of cold comfort. They tell of what an upstanding citizen Jerry was. What an outstanding cop. You want to scream that he was so much more than that. That he was your brother not in blood, but in arms and in friendship. That he could always be counted on to conspire with you to pull a prank on Oliver. That he would always be there to drive you home from the Penny when you had too much to drink. You want to remind everybody how terrible he was at poker because he never could learn a decent poker face.

But you don't because it's expected of you to remain strong; detached. The one people expect to fall apart is Traci, so everyone is forming a protective barrier around her as the honor guard line up. You glance over at Andy, whose hand Traci has a death grip on. She hasn't glanced at you once since you arrived at the church for the service. She thinks you're strong enough to handle it by yourself.

"Why don't you comfort me?" You silent shout at her. "Can't you see Traci isn't the only one who lost someone important in Jerry? I'm hurting too!"

But these words remain unspoken as the honor guard fire off their salute. You flinch with every shot. Each seems to rip a hole through your soul.

Not seen by the others, you close your eyes tightly; silently begging to wake up from the nightmare you find yourself in. What wouldn't you give to be able to fall to your knees and scream with all the agony that is filling you when the lone bagpiper begins to play Taps. But that's not what is expected of you. You're expected to stay strong and silent; the perfect picture of a perfect police officer. A slow, crisp salute when the coffin containing the body of your best friend is lowered into the ground. No tears. Because that is not what is expected of you.

You feel the poker face you carefully put in place before the service start to crack. You can't falter. Not here, not now. Without saying anything to anyone, you put your hat in place; the one that forever smells of the plastic case it's stored in, and turn away from the others to head to your truck. Once ensconced in the cab, you look for Andy; silently praying she's headed your way. If there was one person you would allow close to you at this point, it's her. But she's knelt down next to Traci, showing no signs of leaving her side anytime soon. Of course she's staying with Traci. Traci is allowed to be weak right now, not you. Fighting back the sob you can feel climbing up your throat, you turn the key and have to stop yourself from peeling out of the parking lot as fast as you can as soon as the engine has started. The speed at which you do leave the parking lot is closer to normal. After all, that is what is expected of you.

Once home and alone, the façade breaks. A sound leaves your mouth like that of a wounded animal. Sinking to your knees, it grows louder and louder until it echoes throughout the house. Your fingers grip your hair as you curl into a ball there on the floor in the foyer, still dressed in your dress blues. Your hands have knocked that ridiculous hat off, but you don't care. You can only focus on the pain and the agony. You're blind to everything else.

Coming back to your senses, time has past. The only way you can tell is by the position of the light streaming through the living room windows to your right. It's close to sundown now. You pick yourself off the floor and climb the stairs to your bedroom. You remove your dress uniform piece by piece, carefully hanging each back in the closet. You go through your nighttime routine and crawl into bed; knowing you report to work early the following morning. You won't call Frank, begging him to let you have the day off. You'll show up early like always, and go out on patrol like always. Because that is what is expected of you.


	3. Taking Shots

_A/N: Had to take some time to really think about last week. There were honestly times I wanted to slap Sam for being such a prick, but seconds later, he would make me laugh; like when he was dishing out those five tickets one by one. It's just not fair! _

_As always, I don't own Rookie Blue or the characters. If I did, I'd be much MUCH richer. _

* * *

It's been a month. A month since he opened his mouth and allowed words out that broke the heart of the one woman besides his sister he would willingly lay down his life for.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't be a cop, and be with you." Oh, he had meant the words. He couldn't keep spending every single shift blindly following her every hunch and whim. Not when he was supposed to be the senior officer; the one calling the shots. He needed to get back to the root of what made him a good cop or he'd go demented.

Not that her instincts were always wrong. There were times they were dead on. But his own gut had agreed with Jerry's that day; that they needed to take a closer look at the cabbie. But Andy had disagreed. She was certain it had been the bar tender. And instead of taking control of the situation, forcing her to follow his lead, he had caved. And that had cost his best friend his life. Though it wasn't Andy's fault in any way, he couldn't look at her, hear her voice, without being reminded of his mistake. And so he stayed away.

A month into his self imposed "Andy cleanse" and he starts looking for her in parade again. His eyes hungrily take in every inch of her they can see for days before he begins to crave hearing her speak to him. The day of Frank's "back to basics' exercise, he's desperately going through scenarios in his head about what he would say to her. He's standing in intake with Diaz and Dupuis, listening to Diaz ramble on about something when he sees her coming. And suddenly, like a month ago, his mouth just opens.

"Hey, McNally, how's it going?" Innocent enough. It's a good start.

"Fine, and you?" Her tone isn't exactly welcoming, but at least she didn't ignore him. He tries again.

"Ready to get back to basics?" Really, Swarek? You're gonna go with that? Real smooth.

"Yes, sir." Ouch. The coolness in her voice could have given him frostbite. Looking back, he knows he should have left it at that, but he can't seem to stop himself.

"Hey, wait, wait up." His body seems not under the control of his mind but his heart as he desperately tries to prolong the conversation. He sees her throw her head back and can just imagine she's rolling her eyes at him; something that when they were together, would have gotten her kissed senseless. But not anymore.

He steps in front of her and he's looking her in the eye for the first time in a month. His heart skips a beat.

"Hey," Good one, Swarek. What else ya got? "Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something."

The hope that lights her eyes almost drops him to his knees.

"Okay."

And suddenly the side of him that spurred him on to talk to her is speechless. That's when the prick he calls his rational side speaks up.

"My keys. They're my only other set, I should probably get those back."

And just like that, her eyes go dead. He deserves to have his ass kicked. He really does.

"Keys, right. Uh, I think they're in my locker. I can go get them right now for you."

His heart jumps back in as he tries to backpedal.

"No, no, later's fine."

He gives her a weak smile that she doesn't return. The situation has now become extremely awkward for both of them. And he can't figure out a way to fix it. She's the one to break the strained silence.

"Well, have a good shift."

"You too. Diaz, come on!"

The rest of the day isn't much better. Diaz tries to get him to talk about it. He refuses. And with Frank's 'back to basics' decree, he's stopping and ticketing people he normally would let slide with a warning.

One man they pull over in a brown town car Diaz wants to turn loose when he sees a car seat in the back. A run of the plates reveals the man has been charged twice with domestic violence. A wife beater. This guy obviously didn't know how to cherish the woman he loves and to protect her instead of being the one thing she's afraid of. With each of the five tickets he hands the man, he's deliberately provoking him. Trying to piss him off. And so it's with great relish that Sam is able to arrest him for assaulting an officer when the man pokes him in the chest. He thought it might make him feel better. But it doesn't.

He knows he was wrong to take Andy's head off the way he did. But when he heard Colins' voice over the radio calling shots fired, his stomach dropped to his feet. And, like he had since he met her, his first instinct is to run to her side. When he and Diaz pulled up and he was able to see for himself she was safe, he snapped. His fear of her getting hurt when he wasn't there to protect her hasn't diminished since their break up. If anything, it's gotten worse. And in this case, has manifested itself in anger. Anger directed towards her, the closest, and as such, the most convenient target. She takes his outburst quietly and moves off to do what he orders her to; once again interview the priest. Could he be any more of a prick?

His temper still hadn't cooled by the time they came across four hooligans in an alley. He uses more than needed force on them, he acknowledges. But he doesn't care. He needs an outlet for the aggression building inside him. It's either that or punch a wall. Then his phone rings. It's her. The priest has gone awol; going after the thug responsible for inducting his son into a gang.

"We know he's armed, wait 'til I get there." He orders her before taking off at a sprint to the squad.

By the time he arrives, it's over. Both the thug and the priest are in handcuffs, and Andy's speaking softly to the priest. For the third time that day, he approaches her, but this time, the anger doesn't manifest.

"I told you to wait for me." He quietly tells her.

"I know." She walks off, leaving him standing there feeling like he got sucker punched.

The uppercut that knocks him down however, is waiting for him later at the station, when he's walking in from parking the cruiser. She's walking out of the women's locker room wearing a blouse he had once told her was so soft it was almost like he was touching her skin.

"Hey, here's your keys." She briskly tosses them to him, and walks out of the station without a glance back to return the surprised and hurt look in his eyes. He's so used to having her complete attention that her dismissing him so quickly hurts more than what he'll ever admit out loud.

Later at the bar, he mulls over his day. He's acted like a complete ass to the woman he's crazy about, unnecessarily roughed up suspects and even been taken to task by Diaz, of all people, who tells him to deal with it. The icing on the misery cake is Callahan calling him an idiot for screwing things up with Andy. The one thing when he watched Andy with Callahan he swore he would never do if he had the chance to be with Andy. And yet he did.

So what is he to do now? Too bad the shot Callahan bought him or the beer in front of him don't have any answers. Cause he sure as hell doesn't know.

* * *

_Feedback makes me happy :-)_


	4. Read My Mind

Okay, so last week was really hard to come up with a drabble for. I had several ways of writing this going through my mind, but unlike the others, they didn't just flow out of me. Until this one. This one I'm comfortable with.

I hope everyone is enjoying Breakable. All the wonderful comments have definitely made my days. Please please please keep them coming. I'm sure after tonight's season finale, I'll be updating the next chapter in this much sooner than what this one was.

As always, I own nothing. Rookie Blue and its characters are not mine. I'd be in a much happier place financially and geographically if they were.

* * *

The savant of time and space. She called him that once. Perhaps she was right. Give him time and space, and he had the answers to everything. Or so it seemed. A month and a half away from Andy McNally had made him realize a few things. Like he could never go back to the person he was before she came crashing through that crappy lock and into his life; all big doe eyes and shaking hands. She had filled a void in him he hadn't even realized was there. Riding with her day in and day out had been something to look forward to each morning when he opened his eyes.

Then there was those extraordinary months together. It wasn't very often that they spent the night apart in those months, so waking each morning to see her smiling back at him across the pillows; a crease from her pillow winding its way up her cheek and remnants of eye liner smeared on her lower lids had filled his heart and soul to nearly bursting. Never in his life had he ever felt so complete; so whole. Days off used to mean getting up before sunrise and hitting the gym for a few hours before showering and heading to the station's gun range for target practice, or working on his truck. With McNally, they meant spending the morning in bed, sharing a cup of coffee while arguing over the answers to the crossword puzzle in the paper. Since he called it off, he hadn't finished a single crossword. Couldn't even bear to look at it.

Sam Swarek wasn't one for sharing emotions easily. Emotions made you weak and unfocused. But his had been beating back his common sense in the past few weeks. They tried to take the lead when he saw her in sally port; wanting to know how she was and if they could sit down for a cup of coffee after shift. Just so he could be in her presence. But his head beat back his heart and instead he asked for his keys back. Then there was the booking incident a few weeks later. He and Oliver had been out helping serve a warrant. He hadn't known about what happened until they got back to hear booking was a crime scene, and two people had been shot. One was injured and the other was dead. He swore his hear t didn't start beating again until he saw her standing, hearty and whole, outside Frank's office. He tried to make eye contact with her, but she wouldn't return his gaze; instead she looked away and hid behind Diaz. Frank had told them to go home, that there was nothing they could do until the SIU investigation was over. But he stayed. He had to. He was waiting when she walked out of the D's office.

"Hey."

She kept walking, so he moved with her. He needed to be close to her.

"Hey. What are you still doing here?"

At least she was talking to him. That was promising.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

You scared the crap outta me today. I need you to let me hold you in my arms and feel for myself that you're alright. That's what he told her in his mind.

"That's not your job anymore."

That slap to the face had him stopping in his tracks. She just kept moving. Why couldn't she see he still cared for her? That he couldn't stop from worrying about her? He could chase after her, pin her against the side of his truck while all his emotions spewed out in one long rant of word vomit, but that's where he drew the line. There would be no word vomiting.

She was standing at the bar talking to Collins when he walked into the Penny later that night. Okay, perhaps there could be a little word vomit. If she let him get that close. He took a deep breath, and made his feet move to where she was; trying to gather the courage to ask her if they could go somewhere and talk. He had to make her understand that even if they weren't together, he couldn't stop himself from worrying about her, from loving her. That it was such an integral part of him now that it came as naturally to him as breathing. He hoped she would listen and believe him when he told her that what he had done had hurt not just her, but had torn something out of him that left a raw and bleeding wound that only her being back in his arms could heal.

But his chance slipped out of his grasp as soon as he made the final step that brought him behind her. She walked away with Collins to the rookie table; not once even acknowledging the fact he had been there. The bartender set a glass on the bar in front of him and poured him a shot of whiskey. It seemed that everyone except the one person he did want there was inside his head. Oliver had been shooting him looks; looks that told him to get off his sorry ass and apologize to her. Callaghan had called him an idiot for screwing things up; he had seemed to know from the start there had always been something between them that was more than just a partnership. Diaz had called him to task over his behavior; seeing he was starting to show the invisible cracks in his self control. Even the bartender had set that whiskey down in front of him in a 'sorry man' gesture after Andy walked off. They hadn't exactly been subtle in their PDA on their downtime at the Penny. More than once the bartender had interrupted stolen kisses or laughed at the expression on Andy's face when Sam had snuck up behind her, trapped her backside to his front against the bar, and latched onto her neck with his lips.

Hell, everyone knew he had screwed up. Everyone could tell he was beginning to kick himself in the ass over it. Everyone it seemed, except the one person he wanted to know. A small smile graced his lips. How much easier would it be, he thought, if she could read his mind. Having her in his head could make life so much easier for the both of them. She could see all of his emotions spread wide open to her, there for her to do with them what she would. She could see that he loved her with every molecule, every breath, every heartbeat in him.

But what fun could the fates have then?


	5. Too Little, Too Late

**A/N: Okay, am I the only one who wanted to jump up and start screaming in frustration after the end of last night's finale? We were so CLOSE to getting our favorite couple back together and they pull a season 2 again! But only this time we don't get the immediate resolution to the parting with a new episode next week. We have to wait until next year! AAAAAGGGGGHHH!**

**Okay, now that I have that little frustrated shout done, let's move on, shall we? lol. I have to dedicate this last chapter of Breakable to kmart92 and katerookie1701. Your words of encouragement and praise have meant so much to me. The greatest compliment I can receive as a writer is for a reader to say they were so caught up in my words and in the life of a fictional character that they were actually moved to tears. So thank you, both of you, for that. **

**On a side note, don't worry. There will be more stories coming out of "I Never." Just not as a chapter in "Breakable." **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

_"Hey you've reached Andy. Leave a message."_

The hollow beep sounded in Sam's ear as he hung up. Over an hour since he had told Andy he would be waiting for her at the Penny. An hour after he begged her to give him a second chance. With every sound of the Penny's front door opening, Sam's head jerked up; heart beginning to pound with the hope that _finally_, she would be walking through the door. But each time, it wasn't her. And each time, that hope died just a little bit. Downing another shot of vodka, for the thousandth time he called himself an idiot.

_I meant it. It's true. There are two hundred and six bones in the human body. I saw it on Grey's Anatomy._

Okay, maybe it wasn't the best way to start a conversation like that with a joke. A very poorly timed one at that. But it wasn't like he made a declaration like that every day, okay? He was new at this kind of thing, so she had to at least give him a little credit for even admitting it. When he walked into that kitchen and saw her holding a grenade, he felt as if his whole world had stopped. He felt that even though he hadn't ever said those words to anyone. Not even to his mother or sister, that Andy, the doe eyed rookie that had unknowing to both of them at the time had stolen his heart as soon as she tackled him to the ground, needed to hear them. Deserved to hear them.

Crappy timing on his part, though. He should have done it with a homemade candlelit dinner, or a romantic walk in the park under the stars. Hell, maybe even a skywriter. Anything other than saying it to her for the first time in a life or death situation and then trying to play it off as no big deal later.

_I wish I were more like you._

The confusion had clearly been written across her features.

_What are you?_

_I wish you were in my head. I wish you could read my mind._

_What are you talking about?_

His mouth had gone dry and his heart was threatening to pound through his chest. But damn it, he needed to get those words out. He opened his mouth to say them, nothing came. She had looked at him with that 'get on with it already' expression and they had just tumbled out like they had been waiting there the whole time.

_I love you, Andy._

Leave it to him to admit love in a really awkward moment, like she had feared she would.

Standing in the locker room, he should have said it to her again. Lord knows he tried. He thought, like her, after the first time, it would come easier. But it didn't. He cracked a joke instead and pissed her off.

_You don't get to do this. I don't care if you're serious. I don't care if you're joking. I don't care anymore._

It couldn't end like that. Not when he had finally opened his eyes and saw how royally he screwed up. Not with her saying she didn't care anymore. Not the woman who had looked over at him with the biggest smile on her face and her eyes sparkling like diamonds with sheer happiness when she had looked across his truck at him and hold him she loved him. He had been waiting for years to have her say those words to him. He could die a happy man at that moment. Andy McNally had told him she loved him. Didn't she realize he was now fighting for his whole world when it was beginning to crumble out from underneath him?

She stormed out of the locker room with a, "_just leave me alone." _And he was hot on her heels. This time he wasn't going to let her go without fighting with everything he had.

_I'm not going to leave you alone. I screwed up, okay? Things got tough and I walked away. I thought I was doing the right thing! _

Walking out of the locker room, ya he noticed there were people around. People both of them had to work with. A LOT of them. But at this point he didn't care. Not when he could feel her slipping from his grasp. He had to make her see, make her understand, where his head had been. But she didn't give him the opportunity to before laying into him.

_Do you have any idea what you put me through? You broke up with me in a parking lot and for six weeks, I tried to contact you. You didn't answer one of my calls! _

He inwardly flinched at that. He remembered every single one of those calls. At first she had left falsely cheery messages asking him how he was, that she really wanted to talk to him and asking if she could come over or meet him somewhere. By the third week, they had dwindled down to "Call me, please." By the fifth, they had stopped coming completely. By then there were just notices on his phone that he had missed calls from her.

During that first week, he hadn't wanted to talk to anyone. Loosing Jerry was just too fresh in his mind. It wasn't until the third week that he felt he could rejoin the human race in some capacity, but he just didn't have the courage to hit the single button that would connect their phones so he could tell her just how badly he needed her.

_Andy, I'm,_

_No. Sam, it's too late. I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore._

No, no, no. His heart was shattering just when he was beginning to realize he still had one. She threw his words from that painful night back at him and he realized just how much it hurt being on the receiving end of them. She turned to walk away, but he was with her step for step, using his longer legs to move in front of her and stop her again.

_Okay, you know what, you don't have to do anything. You don't have to do anything. I'm going to do it all. I'm going to do everything, okay? I'm going to show you, every single day, until you say yes. _

Once his heart got started, boy, it was really on a roll. It took over with a vengeance and made sure his head's voice was under lock, key, and duct tape. He knew he was beginning to sound desperate, to and pretty much past the point of begging. But he didn't care.

_I'm gonna make you dinner. I'll take out your garbage. I'll walk your dog. _

Now he was beginning to sound like that little seven year old boy he used to be, begging his mom to let them stay with her. If she let them stay, he promised he'd be a good boy. He'd do all his chores without complaining, he'd even do more. He'd be a good boy, he cried. Just let them stay.

_I don't have a dog._

That's right, she didn't. But she could.

_Then let's get a dog. Labradoodle, mutt from the pound, I don't care. Let's bring him home and call him Boo. Boo Radley, I've always loved that for a dog._

He could picture it so easily. The two of them curled up on the couch with a fuzzy, drooling hair missile happily draped across their laps. Couldn't she see how perfect a picture that made? He got her to crack a smile at the unknown dog's name and he thought he had her. But she still wouldn't look at him. He was still losing her.

But then his mind spoke up. Oh, it wasn't to tell his heart to shut up. It was to say perhaps he was coming on a little strong. Try a softer approach, it reasoned. Start with something simple.

_Okay, look. Can we just start with a drink? Just a drink. _

She was still silent. But at least she would make brief eye contact.

_Please, Andy. Just give me a chance. _

She gave a shrug. It was more of a positive response than what he had yet gotten out of her. But it wasn't a yes either.

_I'll be at the Penny._

With that he walked away, leaving her to make her choice, because he couldn't stand there any longer without falling to his knees and creating a scene that would thoroughly embarrass them both. So he walked away to regain his composure and to leave her to think over what he had said.

So here he was, still sitting at the bar. He checked his watch. Now three hours gone and no sign of her. Peck had wandered off somewhere, Becca had found a group of friends to distract her from the fact Oliver had ditched her.

He picked up his phone, checking to see if he had missed any calls or texts from her. Nothing. His thumb hit speed dial three and he lifted it to his ear.

_"Hey you've reached Andy. Leave a message."_

The others may have found distractions, but he was still at the bar, determined to close it down waiting for Andy. He told her that's where he'd be. They'd have to kick him out before he moved from his spot. He picked up his cell.

_"Hey you've reached Andy. Leave a message."_

* * *

_**Love it? Hate it? Wanting to throw rotting vegetables? Allow me to find something to duck behind first, then let me know!**_


End file.
